Glass House
by AmaraSidhe
Summary: Another bit of sibling goodness. Reese Benoit and her...unfortunate happenings. R for language and allusions of rape. For Kitten. R&R for -- sparklies? Ice Cream? A Pinata? I have yet to decide. *Finished!*
1. The Box.

Glass House   
By AmaraSidhe   
(Note – I don't own anyone in this mosh pit of characters, with the exception of Reese Benoit. She's mine. And this is for Satin Frost (Kitten). The title was pulled from an Ani DiFranco song of the same name, as I was listening to it when I wrote this – some lyrics are at the bottom. ) 

-- Prologue -- 

Reese Benoit had always been…unnaturally quiet. 

But now – her dark eyes here frozen in horror, dark seawater orbs unblinking, mouth slightly open…   
There was so much – wrong. 

She'd been mutilated, scared, stolen…taken away.   
That – creature had brought her to her knees, screaming, crying, begging for mercy. Begging for someone to barge in and save her. 

But he…it was coming in again –   
The click of the lock, the slide as the key slipped out…   
Those expensive shoes, tap tap tap against the linoleum… 

Someone, anyone…don't let it be him. 

Shivering, she closed her eyes, tried to think it was someone else standing there, tried to think…   
Someone else's hands running through her cocoa hair.   
Someone else teasing her, snickering as she tried to pull away… 

Some way…to change the nightmare. 

-*- 

That's when her eyes snapped open, her breath heavy as fingers slipped against the wood of the door, the door to the outside world – the heavy door that kept her in this prison…   
In the dark.   
Trapped in her nightmares. 

But she could hear voices outside.   
A familiar, overconfident…smirking tone. Though…it almost sounded worried. Tired. 

_I just…Reese…what if she's dead? What if she's dead and I can't do a thing about it, huh? Then what? I guess…_

Tears glistened again, her cheeks stinging as the salt water fell over her face. It was unmistakable.   
But...she was quiet. No one could hear her in the soundproof box. 

_I…I love her._

-*- 

She…needed to go back to where it started.__

_life just keeps getting harder_   
_keeps getting harder to hide_   
_darker it is around me_   
_easier it is to see inside_   
_and outside the glass_   
_the whole world is magnified_   
_and it's half an inch_   
_from here to the other side_


	2. Accusation. (Jericho.)

(Author note -- Okay, I'm figuring there will be heavy use of the lyrics from the song Ruby Tuesday in this story. That's a Rolling Stones song for all you kiddies who didn't know. Not mine. Just wanted to let ya'll know.) 

i._ Jericho._

_Goodbye Ruby Tuesday…who could hang a name on you…_

"Turn the fucking thing OFF!" Narrowing my eyes, I took the closest throwable thing, heaving it at the stereo. I couldn't listen to that – especially not that song. Not right now, anyhow. Not when…   
Not when it reminded me of Reese...   
I'd teased her, called her Reesie Tuesday sometimes...   
But now, I couldn't even think about that. 

Not when she could be dead. 

I closed my eyes, and all I could see were those bright blue green eyes, staring up at me hopefully as she shoved the hair out of her face, wood bead bracelets clacking together, as she let her fingers idly strum against her guitar –   
She'd had a fondness for the older songs, for the Stones, especially… 

That's when I'd first seen her, actually. Before I knew anything else about her…   
I knew she could sing like nothing else I'd ever heard in my life.   
A voice like a blues angel, a smile…   
But now…she's gone. 

They suspected I'd done it. They thought I was the one who had taken her away, done something horrible to her – and I wouldn't do that for a million dollars. Wouldn't do it in a million years.   
It's not every day someone like that comes into your life, and doesn't care if she tells you that you're a thousand kinds of crude… 

She'd said it in more ways than I could understand, but she'd never once pushed me back –   
She was perceptive of a lot of things, and I think she knew that…   
Well, I can not be a jerk. Once in a while. 

Of course, her guitar's in the corner of the room, neatly placed in the open case, and hasn't been touched in weeks. That stupid shell necklace she liked so much was wrapped around the handle of the open case.   
There was still a note taped to my dresser… 

_Chris –_   
_Hey dorkface, I'll be around later – went shopping, and you know how I get. Out being a trash-bag shopper. Vintage. Mmm._

She'd never showed up.   
I'd waited for…hours. 

And now – weeks after she'd disappeared, I couldn't get the picture out of my mind. That little hippie jeans wearing, acoustic guitar playing, poetry writing…   
Angel. 

They thought I'd killed her.   
Sons of bitches…   
Then again, what would I want with her? 

They…didn't know. 


	3. Reverie. (Reese.)

ii. _Reese_. 

How it started – how had this all started? It'd all been purely by accident, I was sure. And I'd never been meaning to cause any trouble, much less be in any trouble…   
But that's not how it had turned out. 

Now…I was in pain. I was shut up in a tiny box, the rest of the world seeming miles away. 

But suddenly…it came to me. Or maybe it was just one of those moments, my favorite fantasies. Things to keep me from going mad…   
Back… 

-*- 

Idly tucking my much chewed on pencil back behind my ear, I eyed the guitar on the floor beside me, thinking about a few more chords, a little bit of an accompaniment for something half-lyrical I'd written earlier. I'd been in the hallway for the past few hours, watching the world go by, making note of certain people, but still remaining silent… 

You've got two ears and one mouth for a reason – listen more, speak less. 

I'd always been more of a listener, or a watcher, whichever you felt like calling me. There wasn't much that I could say that wouldn't be overlooked, mainly because my voice didn't stick out much in the volume department –   
If you could hear me over the fairly loud din of everyday life, the only thing that you'd notice was a very heavy Canadian accent. 'About' ended up 'aboot,' and so forth. 

But right now, I was more or less thinking about the goings on, the fact that I'd been here for a little more than six hours, and already I'd seen more than I'd wanted to…   
That was when he'd stopped, looked down, and sneered at me. 

"Can't you be a road block somewhere else?" 

I didn't say anything then, just – watched him. Studied the way his eyes looked like a glacier had slipped across them, chilling the already frigid blue. The way that somewhere, under all that attitude, there was something…   
A little more…vulnerable, perhaps?   
No…   
A little less cold, though. Definitely. 

"If it means anything, people have been passing me all day, so I'm not in anyone's way…" The words were calm, quiet alto accent lilting, and I merely smiled, brushing my hair out of my face.   
He seemed like the type to anger easily, which I'm sure wasn't a good thing.   
But…it was always the people like that who'd interested me. 

But he'd said nothing more, just started down the hall, not happy that I hadn't got into a huff about things.   
And meanwhile…I just went back to my guitar, the creative process slowed for a moment.   
A few riffs… 

Yeah, I was going to go in on Ruby Tuesday again – that was my song. Mine. Everyone said I was the kind of girl who just drifted, hung on dreams… 

_"She would never say where she came from…and yesterday don't matter if it's gone…"_

He'd looked back then, and I could have sworn I'd seen interest in that face. 

-*- 

I had. I'd seen interest, and more than anything – more than anyone had ever ventured to see.   
Of course, at the time, I didn't know that, but… 

I'd learn. 

And in the blackness…I hummed, quietly before a tiny whisper of song escaped… 

_"While the sun is bright, or in the darkest night…no one knows…she comes and goes…"_   



	4. Understood? (Benoit.)

iii. _Benoit_

Part of me still thinks that Reese is alive. Part of me says that my baby sister has been locked in a tower, or some nonsense like that –   
She was always acting like the faerie tale princess anyway, so it would fit for her. 

Not a lot of people know that I actually care about my sister like that – some say that it's an 'understood' thing, that Reese and I don't really talk about it, but we know…   
And then there are some people who think I could care less. 

But Reese has been there a lot more than anyone else has. After the surgery, she'd sit in my room and just – well, just sit there.   
I suppose a lot is understood between the two of us. We've never really had to say a word to each other –   
She's a few years my junior, but… 

There's something about your 'baby' sister showing up in a hospital room at three in the morning with chocolate chip cookies and her guitar, saying she was 'in the neighborhood' and thought that I could use a visit.   
She was…is…thoughtful. 

Even to people that don't really deserve it. 

Of course, she'd be staring at me right now, those bright blue green eyes giving me 'the look.' It wasn't something overly threatening, but –   
My sister, apparently, had at one point, had decided she was patron saint of the rest of the world. 

I'm the Canadian Crippler.   
She's the Canadian Mother Teresa. 

It's kind of tough, though, waking up and knowing that she's not armed with a pillow, or that she's not going to waltz in on one of her rose-coloured creative streaks and announce she'd just written the greatest lyrics…   
She's…a spirit. Someone told her that once – she says she's still trying to figure out what it means. 

Some days – she tries to figure out what everything means. She says everyone has a purpose, even if we can't stand them at times (usually, during this speech, she gives me that pointed look).   
And…yeah. 

It's a pain in the ass sometimes. 

But…my sister's disappeared.   
They think she's dead. 

It's taking all the self-control I have not to rip certain people's faces off   
Reese wouldn't like it.   
I personally don't care…   
But she has…had…   
Why am I having issues with this? She's still alive. Has to be. 

There's no other way I can look at it. 

But…I'll kill who took her. 


	5. The Box.

(Lyrics in the story. Yay. It's...oy, I can't remember the song, but it's by the Juliana Theory.) 

iv.   
The Box. 

How many days had it been? Three? Four? Seven? She couldn't remember. Trapped in the blackness of the box, Reese slept most times, only to be hounded by nightmares, only to have the thoughts of things being okay torn away – 

There were days that it made her physically ill, sick to the point that she's cry and howl until she retched. And then he'd scream at her more, make her withstand even more torture…   
She apparently wasn't grateful. 

She hadn't worn much in the past few days, her clothes torn, shredded off by hands that seethed poison, hands that should touch nothing living –   
Not… 

It was getting harder to block out the nightmare. 

Harder to say that maybe, out of luck, someone would hear her, somehow. Someone would wonder why there were pieces of denim, lace stuffed into the bottom of a trash can, where strands of dark blonde hair had come from…   
He tugged on her hair a lot, said it made him feel like a man to do this to her. 

He said it was because she deserved this.   
He said because…   
Her brother worried too much. Her boyfriend – well, he couldn't think about something like girls. About her. He had better things. 

Tears fell down her cheeks again, and she wondered exactly how much more time she had to cry.   
How much time before he came back.   
How much – how many tears she had left.   
How much time… 

She wanted…someone. She wanted her brother, her best friend….   
Reese needed someone to tell her it was going to be okay, because part of her was dying. 

-*- 

_I think of our times together…_   
_Is it fading, or am I dreaming…_

She'd looked up at him, that day, a few days after the initial 'could you move' conversation, and asked him exactly who he thought he was.   
He ran around all day, sneering, saying that he was the greatest thing in the world, that he'd been the first undisputed champion… 

But he'd lost it, she'd been fast to point out. 

Oh, the colours he'd turned when she'd said that – she was sure he was going to wring her neck or do something else just as unpleasant, but…he'd said something that caught her off guard.   
"As much as I don't like you, I don't think I could maim a girl with a voice like yours…" 

He'd been listening, she'd realized. Listening to her impromptu songs, her late nights in the hallways, after she thought everyone had gone to sleep….   
He'd been listening. 

It was then the conversation had turned course, and they'd actually started talking about old rock bands, different eras, and just…   
He wasn't as bad as he let on, not after you found the right thing to talk about. 

Or maybe it was just her lucky day. 

-*- 

It wasn't luck. 

With a sigh, Reese slumped against the door of 'the box,' dark eyes closing, a tired whimper escaping from pale lips. 

She wanted held.   
Reese wanted it…to be all okay. 

_I cherish our memory..._   
_I wanna kiss your tears away tonight..._   



	6. The Torture. (Reese.)

v. Reese. 

It was getting more difficult to push things away, to make the nightmare go away – it was like – it was a torture no one should have to go through, but somehow…   
For some reason…   
I was there. 

And I knew what was going on in the outside world – that scumbag had told me.   
They thought Jericho had done it…   
They thought he'd thrown me in a gutter somewhere, and no matter how many times he denied anything, people suspected him. I was sure my brother did. 

But he loved to throw that fact in my face – that no one would believe him, no matter what he said.   
No matter how many times he vehemently said that he loved me and wouldn't do such a thing…   
Sometimes…I could hear the fights. 

Sleazeball liked that. He liked gagging me so I couldn't make any noise, throwing me somewhere where I wouldn't be seen, and letting me listen to it. 

"Fuck off! I wouldn't do something like that – maybe to your daughter, maybe…"   
It got ugly then, and I couldn't make sense out of the fight, all the yelling, everything – usually, my mind only caught up to things when he told my precious boy to get out of his office… 

My precious boy. 

And then he'd…Sleazeball would tell my brother things. Tell him that I was most definitely dead, and he should extract any means of 'justice' necessary…   
Even if it meant death… 

I wanted to scream then – just to let the rest of the world know that I was here, stuffed away, broken, bleeding, scarred in more ways than I could show…   
But I couldn't say anything – the tape he'd slapped over my lips was taut, and my hands had been twined behind my back. 

I could only think of when things were better. 

-*- 

"How can you think that that _twanger_ is better than an acoustic?"   
With the tiniest laugh, I rolled my eyes, completely baffled by the concept that the electric guitar was something I'd actually play. Ever. 

Of course, he was insisting it was great. Wonderful.   
The best damn thing, ever. 

"Come on, Reese – it's not like it's possessed or anything, you can actually touch it and not die…" Of course, to the louder, more arrogant, and decidedly blonder Chris in my life, this was amusing. He said I looked like I was some lost flower child, and I really needed to get with the times. 

I just usually…laughed. 

But he'd been bugging me about this for some time, a few days – since we'd had the whole discussion over what bands were decent, my 'rock ideals'…   
We'd actually been pretty inseparable. 

And right now, he was trying to con me into trying to play that…electric twanger. 

"No…I'm not going to. Not today, anyhow." 

"Reese…" Now it was his turn to laugh, and I cherished the sound. It wasn't something that was heard often, really. Not that laugh, full of life, full of a million things that the rest of the world didn't see…   
Mainly because of the gigantic faux ego that hid a hundred thousand insecurities. 

"What? I just…"   
I didn't expect it. I didn't expect him to just lean in like that, having all but forgotten the guitar beside him, his hand brushing my long dark hair over my shoulder…   
I didn't expect it to happen, and I didn't expect it to be that…nice. 

-*- 

I could hear my brother yelling now, yelling about how he was going to kill the bastard at the second he found any trace of blame. Any way to prove that…   
He'd done it. 

Even if I knew he hadn't… 

No one knew him the way I did, though.   



	7. Contemplative. (Jericho.)

(More lyrics – and I actually know the title to this song. Go me. Anyway, lyrics are courtesy Unwritten Law's "Seein' Red," which I thought fit the situation. But that's just me.) 

vi. _Jericho_

They thought I'd killed her. 

Knowing that – the more I thought about it, the more I wish that I had. The more I wish I'd never had a single thing to do with Reese Benoit, makes me wish that she'd never even set foot on this earth, ever even looked at me, ever spoke in that soft accent, never spoke… 

I don't know if I can take it. 

_I'm seein' red, don't think you'll have to see my face again…_   
_Don't have much time for sympathy_   
_Cos it never happened to me_

I couldn't help but be a little angry with her – whatever had happened, I'm sure she could have avoided it, and things would be a million times better. The world wouldn't think I'm a murderer, and…   
I could have her here.   
It'd be strange, but… 

I wouldn't want to end it. I'd still have something…to live for. 

-*- 

_So follow the leader down_   
_And swallow your pride and drown_   
_When there's no place left to go,_   
_Maybe that's when you will know…_

Of course Reese and I had our ups and downs – things weren't so hot in the beginning. I mean, I was still a little (okay, a lot) bitter over the whole title loss thing, and I'll admit…   
I was an asshole. 

She'd not been afraid to call me on it, either.   
At first, the tiny voice was annoying, but avoidable, ignorable. But then – we'd actually clicked over something. She was a musician, 110%, and there's something in me that…   
Well, I respected that. Don't know why the I did, but… 

I hadn't respected her much when she'd looked me dead in the eye one day, completely out of nowhere. 

"Chris? You do realize that I can see straight through this egotistical bullshit. What's with the routine, anyhow? Y'got insecurity issues or something?" 

Let me say…that was a surprise. I'd never heard the girl swear until that point, and the shock of that had to fizzle before I realized what it was she'd exactly said.   
She cut right to the chase. Right damn to it. 

"Hell no. Why would I be insecure…?" 

_And foolish lies_   
_Well can't you see I try to compromise_   
_Cos what you say ain't always true_   
_And I can see the tears in your eyes_

"I'm not blind, you know. Or maybe it's a Benoit thing – I'm perceptive. You just look like…something…"   
"You're nuts." 

"If I'm so crazy, Jericho…" We'd been sitting in the makeshift kitchen, across the table from each other, and that's when she leaned a little closer to me, her eyes boring into mine. "If I'm so crazy…why does it look like you're gonna cry?" 

I wouldn't even look at her for a week after that.   
She…knew. Saw. 

_And what you said now_   
_Can't stop the words from runnin' through my head_   
_And what I'd do to get though to you_   
_But you'd only do it again_

She never was one to let anyone cry, though. Not Reese. She'd push the right buttons, quietly, carefully…   
She'd find out what was wrong, and then she'd be there with tissues and ice cream…   
A few sweet words… 

-*- 

Where was she to console me now?   
Oh, yeah….she's supposedly dead.   
And I'm supposedly the one who did it. 

_I confess_   
_I don't know what to make from all this mess_   
_Don't have much time for sympathy_   
_But it never happened to me_

How could you kill someone if losing her meant the slow death of you?   
I didn't do it. 

_You're feelin' down now_   
_I don't know where I'll be when you come around_   
_And now it's time to make a choice…_   
_And all I wanna hear is your voice._


	8. Destructive. (?)

vii. 

She was beautiful. More beautiful than anyone in this business should be, mainly because the world didn't need to be looking at her.   
Not at those long legs.   
That waterfall of dark hair, the intensity in those aquamarine eyes. 

No one needed to see it. 

No one needed to know that she had a tattoo of two butterflies on the inside of her left ankle, one pink, one purple…   
No one needed to know the way she whimpered when you slammed her into the wall… 

The way she pleaded with me.   
The way she cried for her brother.   
The way she howled that either he or Jericho would come save her… 

She insisted he loved her – that was amusing.   
If he loved her so damn much, why was he the one who'd done it…? 

Of course, I knew better. I knew that she wasn't dead, and that he hadn't been one inkling responsible for her disappearance. He was as broken up about this as anyone could humanly be…   
Which was the vast majority of the problem. 

He's not cared about – anyone before.   
And now it was obvious he had some connection to the nymph stuffed in the closet.   
His mind had been on her lately…not on winning… 

It'll be a pity when I'm finished with her. 

Why don't you take the day off, I'd told him, get yourself together, shove Reese's disappearance in the back of your mind. She's not worth worrying about anyway… 

He'd been…rather destructive when I'd said that.   
Not taken it well at all… 

He'd taken the day, though. Which gave me…time with Reese.   
Even if she squirmed when I put my hands on her.   
Even if she cried every time. 

She…was breaking down. 

I'd have to get rid of her soon. 

And…we already had a suspect. A place to deposit Reese's lovely body when she finally broke…   
When I'd have to clean up the evidence.   
Yes…this was going nicely.   



	9. Wounded. (Reese.)

viii. _Reese_

Dark eyes slipped closed again, and I heaved a sigh. He'd done it again.   
Every time that happens, I feel like I'm going to die a little bit more, like there's nothing to live for, like life was slowly slipping away from me every time he grabbed me, every time… 

Every experience tore more and more of me away. 

He'd made me strip in front of the mirror today, made me watch, see the damage he'd done – I looked…   
I looked so old.   
A thousand years of pain and heartbreak glinted in ocean eyes, dark circles around them, bruises here and there… 

I hadn't eaten in days.   
Couldn't keep anything down. 

_Get up, damn you. Someone could come in here, see you, and…_

I only hope someone does come in.   
Of course – he's bluffing. The door's locked, and… 

_GET UP._

It's then he picked me up, glaring, swearing….   
Throwing me back in there.   
Everything with him – was violent. 

It wasn't like… 

-*- 

"Are you sure…" He'd been so completely gentle with me to that point, not wanting to do anything wrong, not wanting to scare me…   
I knew he had a lot more experience in this department, but… 

"Reese?"   
"Yeah…?"   
"You…you're okay with this, right? I don't…want to if…" 

I never would have thought he would be this sensitive about things, about making sure that I was completely okay with this, even if I really didn't have a clue what I was doing… 

"Yeah."   
"Um…I'll still love ya and stuff…if…"   
"I'm fine."   
"Okay." 

-*- 

It had been – everything. It was something that I couldn't describe, but wanted to feel this very moment.   
Because then…I'd felt…   
Safe. 

Not…broken. 

Not being screamed at because I couldn't get up, because my body was simply too weak to move much more. 

Because somewhere…I was dying.   
No one knows I'm here.   
I'm dying.   
They'll never find me.   
I'll never see my brother again.   
I'll never see… 

The more I lay here, the more…   
It fades away.   



	10. Despair. (Benoit.)

(Holy cow! I updated – yeah, I've had these next three chapters laying around the apartment for some time, I just hadn't typed them up. Hope ya'll enjoy, and I'll try to update faster, I swear!)  
  
ix. Benoit.  
  
It's hard, trying to find that flicker of hope, that sparkle that says she's still alive.  
  
It's been weeks…  
  
5 weeks, 2 days, thirteen hours…  
  
The world doesn't know what I'd give for her…to find her.  
  
Alive.  
  
Safe.  
  
I'd give my life to see my baby sister run into Chris Jericho's arms, even if deep down it made me sick.  
  
It didn't matter –  
  
He brought her a happiness I couldn't begin to fathom…  
  
And if it brought a smile to Reese's face, a sparkle to cerulean eyes…  
  
So be it.  
  
They want to pack her belongings away, want to say…  
  
Reese Christina Benoit was dead.  
  
Is dead.  
  
Sadly, though, I'm starting to believe the voices.  
  
The voice – of reason.  
  
Jericho, however, was still stubborn as hell, claiming that 'his angel' would come back to him.  
  
He plays her guitar.  
  
He talks as if she's there, listening to him….  
  
Reese is dead…she has to be.  
  
Reese is dead, and Chris Jericho is slowly losing his mind. 


	11. Descent. (Jericho.)

x. _Jericho_

"Reese!"
    
    The sheets were soaked in sweat, and I sat up, panting.  
    
    Another dream.  
    
    Another faux-happy ending…

She climbs into bed with me.  
Kisses my forehead, then slips away…

I turn a little to hold her, to know that she's there…  
And then I see her eyes.

Hollow. Cold. Dead.   
Her mouth somehow set into that pleading, angelic, beautiful pout.  
Her precious little body…broken.

It's all I can do to keep from being sick.  
How do you shut that kind of picture from your mind?

I tried in vain for a couple moments, then glanced at the Polaroid on the nightstand.

Those wide-set blue eyes.   
Baby-faced pout.   
Dark hair that fell haphazardly over her shoulders.

An angel…

Sleep, though I couldn't understand _how_, had started to close in, and I sighed.  
She _had_ to be alive…

__

Had to.


	12. Dwindling Hopes. (The Box.)

xi. _The Box_

The girl had been half-starved…  
She smelled of sex, blood…  
A slow destruction or hope, a slipping away…

Reese knew she was going to die here – she was merely waiting for her last breath to pass over broken, bruised lips…

That's when he'd told her.

Her brother – had given up.  
To him…she was gone.

__

"And now, angel face, comes the fun part…"  
Placing the blame.

Everyone thought it was Jericho, anyway, since he was the only one saying she could still be alive.

She wanted to hold him then, even more than ever…  
He knew something was wrong with this.

But…_he_ was going to pin the blame on him anyway.  
Reese's shirt, once a gorgeous dark green peasant blouse, was now nothing more than a few bloody shreds of fabric, and now…  
Stuffed in the bottom of Jericho's footlocker.

__

"Someone will find them, eventually…"

He was so sure of that, so sure that his plan was flawless…  
So sure – that he was being careless, only locking the closet door.  
Not binding her hands and feet quite as tightly…

True, she was weak, and true, there was no real suspicion that she was here…  
But even…by accident – someone might find her.


	13. Downward Spiral. (?)

xii.

She keeps asking about the closet, and why I seem to guard it with my life, why I don't let anyone in there, because…  
Well, if she only knew what was there, she'd understand.  Then again, she'd probably be completely horrified that I was keeping my own version of a mistress…  
Though she was getting a tad pathetic.  

Whimpering.

Whining.

Crying whenever I was finished with her.

She'd be gone soon enough.  
True, she hadn't dwindled away to nothingness yet, as I'd anticipated, and I knew I was going to have to do this the hard way.  I'd have to kill her myself.

It wouldn't take long, but I'd have to wait until night, after everyone's gone to sleep, after they've left.  
  
She'd whimper.  

Scream.  
There'd be terrible bloodstains…

And I don't know how I'm going to peg this on him…

But I'd think of something.

After all, I am a mastermind, aren't I?


	14. Discovery. (Stacy)

xiii.

(Stacy)

What _is_ his obsession with that closet, keeping it closed, locked…

I'd decided when I got just the right moment, I'd find out.

After all, it could be something important, good or bad, and – I'm sure I'd make use of it.  Regardless.

Getting the key, however, had been much trickier than I'd thought it would be, but – like I said, Mr. McMahon _was_ obsessive about this stupid closet…

But – I have feminine wiles.

And truthfully – where there was a wile, there was a way.

Of course, I do _not_ want to go into what I had to do.  Eww.

But – it was late enough, no one would expect anything – perhaps a late night errand, but…

Nothing else.

This was one of the perks of being a 'personal assistant.'

Slipping into his office, I glanced to the mysterious closet door, then do the key…

"Jackpot."

Of course, there was a little rustle that sounded like it came from other side of said door, but…

That had to be my imagination.

This could be something big.

Hearing the _click_ echo through the room, I turned the knob, slowly pulling this mystery open…

What fell out made me scream bloody murder.

"Oh.  My.  God."

Dark hair running over an emaciated frame, and…naked.

Then she looked up.

Reese Benoit.

She'd been missing for weeks, and she'd been _here_, in Mr. McMahon's _closet?_

"Stacy…"  She could barely plead, hardly move.

I picked up the phone.

I called 911.

Then…I retched.


	15. Epilogue

(Okee, this one's getting the stamp of finishedness on it – hope ya'll liked it, cos I had fun writing it.)

-- Epilogue -- 

She looked so tiny in that hospital bed, fragile – tubes running in and out of her…

That terrorized look in ocean eyes.

She'd told them everything.  She'd gone to ask Mr. McMahon if he'd give Jericho the night off…

For their anniversary.

And she simply…hadn't come out.

No one knew, since she wanted it to be a surprise.

"Reese?"  Arctic eyes peered over the edge of the hospital door, and slowly, her boyfriend, Chris Jericho, stepped into the room, roses caught in one of his hands.

"How're you feelin'?"

She said nothing, but smiled slightly, a twinkle embedded in her dull eyes.

A tiny shrug.

"Yeah, I could understand that."

Grinning haphazardly, he sat down, handing her the flowers.

"Um…your brother said – he's having issues with this, but…he's gonna drop by later, and…"

He stopped for a moment, and for the first time since the police had left, Reese spoke, her words shaky…

"Chris…what is it?"

"It's going to be okay."  Leaning close, he pushed her hair back, kissing her forehead.

She smiled, closing her eyes.

They nightmare had stopped.


End file.
